I have learned
there is no safety in silence
there is no comfort in holding who I am
so close that it falls down my throat
and is lost
relief of that heart squeezing
lung crushing worry
that comes moments
before breathing a thought
around anything or anyone outside of myself
does not come
until it is done
like the fear of the bullet and the way it shatters the air
that comes before the trigger is pulled
and then the satisfaction in the echo
of the circles of reverberations hitting
the ears the hearts the lives of the souls within a mile
rather I assume this is how it feels
I have never released the ammunition
I don’t know if it would come out a bullet at all
I don’t know what I look like past the chamber
through the barrel
but I do know
that I cannot love whatever it is
until I can see it and touch it and feel it’s heft
fire

—
A.O.A.M. || In Which I Turn My Thoughts Into Bullets And Myself Into A Gun